The thing Zhao Min regretted most in her life was not rushing over when her daughter was being beaten.
Her second-biggest regret was not kicking that menace out of the house before something happened to her younger daughter.
Her third was hearing her whole family talk about those "get-rich opportunities", subscription certificates, Pudong property, the internet, online shops, and doing nothing at all, then dying sick and frail.
Heaven gave her another chance.
On April 3, 1980, she pushed open the wooden gate of the staff housing compound, carrying a forty-three-year-old body, thirty years of memories, and a heart full of resentment.
Saving her eldest daughter was a debt she owed her.
Throwing out the ungrateful snake was the right thing to do.
As for making money? That was just a little something on the side.
She never expected that this "little something" would take the whole family from the staff compound to a villa, and from a few thousand yuan to a nine-figure fortune.
And when the woman named Gao Wenjing knelt before her and begged for mercy, Zhao Min said just three words:
"Too late."
